Although
Rosie was completed over two years ago, it has only
just arrived in New Zealand, but it's been well worth the
wait. An intensely grim and gritty fable that covers thirty-six hours in the life of one unfortunate Northern Irish family, it was
funded by the Irish Film Board and is producer Roddy Doyle's
first original screenplay in over eighteen years. Its unrelenting tone of neo-social realism is reminiscent of
both Ken Loach's I, Daniel Blake, and Locke,
which similarly managed to hold an audience's attention
without ever leaving the inside of a car. It's the sort of
movie that would have been termed a 'kitchen sink drama' if
they had a kitchen to call their own, rather than surviving
on greasy chips, ketchup, and vinegar.
The narrative
arc is fairly straightforward and unrelentingly depressing.
A family of six has been evicted from their rented home and
we follow them in their frantic search to get a roof over
their heads. There are anything between 10,000-25,000 people
in Ireland categorized as homeless or without a fixed
address - and that's excluding single people, addicts,
alcoholics, vagrants. It is mainly composed of loose-knit
families - mums, dads, and children - without the warmth and
safety of home. The personal stress that comes from a deep
sense of shame and humiliation is an ever-present reality
for these good folk, as they seek assistance from anonymous
bureaucrats and welfare officers, as well as teachers,
friends, and relatives, constantly afraid in case their
children are removed by 'social' services. Ireland's
national disgrace lies in the vast number of ghost
residencies, empty houses, and apartments that are
under-utilised or not used at all. The government has
expropriated millions of acres for road development,
constructing car parks, and building paths for bikes and
pedestrians, but seems incapable of providing houses and
apartments for its citizens.
Rosie's partner John Paul
(Moe Dunford) works in a restaurant kitchen. Until their
landlord decided to sell up, they were all living a happy
and socially responsible existence in a rented house in
North Dublin. While John Paul washes dishes, Rosie drops the
kids off at school and spends her days looking for somewhere
else to rent. But prices have become unaffordable and during
their increasingly panicked search for a new place to call
home, they find themselves having to beg social services for
interim overnight placements in hotel rooms, a different
place each time. They constantly struggle to 'keep up
appearances,' while the possibility of having to sleep in
the car gets ever closer. Rosie cannot bring the family to
stay with her widowed mother for personal reasons that are
briefly hinted at and the strain of not admitting to their
friends or their children’s teachers what is happening is
almost unbearable.
We follow the family as they visit
each individual station of their domestic cross. Perhaps the
most unbearably sad moment comes when Rosie and her family
go to a cafe that is about to close and get 'ready for bed'
by making individual trips to the toilet with their towels
and toothbrushes, before traipsing out together again to the
car. There is a terrible, wrenching sadness in this film, as
well as great rage at the unfairness of their
situation.
Director Paddy Breathnach imposes a
claustrophobic atmosphere that precisely captures the
intimate family drama by means of wonderfully naturalistic
performances and intrusively close-up Steadicam work. It is
powerfully acted, especially by Sarah Greene in the leading
role. When she briefly cracks under the strain, her voice
becomes a raw blade that savagely pops through the bubble of
safety she's trying to sustain for the sake of her children,
but no longer believes in. And there is no comforting, happy
Hollywood resolution.
This intimate family drama
remains heartbreakingly relevant, infused with a coldly
righteous fury as chilling as cinematographer Cathal
Watters’ icy winter-blue palette. Since the film was made,
the housing situation in 'advanced' Western industrial
countries has only deteriorated further. The film's power
derives largely from depicting the “homeless” not as a
caste or tribe whose condition has been preordained at
birth. Their situation is not the result of some sort of a
karmic punishment for dishonesty or laziness. They are just
ordinary working-class people who are prepared to follow the
rules and play the game, but whose dire plight has been
created by the ineluctable pressures of market capitalism
and economic forces way beyond their
control.